Chapter 4: Bitter Toasts and Unspoken Threats

At dinner, he sat at my table, drinking sullenly and ignoring me. Who cared? If it weren’t for my sister’s wedding, we’d never have spoken. The silence between us was heavy, but I didn’t mind. I let it settle, unbothered.

After a while, the bride and groom came to toast us. The clink of glasses was forced, but it was tradition. The sound rang hollow in the tense air.

My sister still looked upset; my brother-in-law forced a smile. His eyes darted between us, nervous. I could see the tension in his shoulders.

“Bro, this one’s for you. Thanks for protecting me today,” my sister said, voice choked with gratitude. She raised her glass, her hands trembling. The liquid inside barely rippled.

My brother-in-law quickly added, “Sorry I didn’t plan things better. I’ll drink as punishment.” He downed his glass, the liquor burning his throat. His face twisted as he swallowed.

I didn’t drink, just looked at them, then glanced at my scowling in-law and said calmly,

“This isn’t something a drink can fix. If you want a peaceful family, you need to drop these backward customs.” My words hung in the air, impossible to ignore. I watched the realization dawn on a few faces.

My brother-in-law’s dad snorted, slamming his cup on the table, saying nothing. The sound echoed, sharp and final. The silence that followed was thick.

I sneered, turning to him. “What’s wrong, Uncle? Am I wrong?” My voice was quiet, but the challenge was clear. I could see the muscles in his jaw tighten.

He snorted again, brushing me off. “You’re right.” His words were grudging, forced. I could hear the reluctance in every syllable.

My sister’s face fell, her voice cold. “Here’s to you.” She raised her glass, her eyes hard. The glare she gave him was ice.

He glared at her, then noticed her glass was filled with water. He slammed his own glass down.

“Call me ‘Dad’ and I’ll give you a gift card. But on your wedding day, you toast me with water—are you looking down on me?” His voice was sharp, accusing. I saw the confusion flicker in his eyes.

My sister bit her lip and turned to leave. Her shoulders were stiff, her back straight. I could see the tension in every step.

My brother-in-law hurried to explain, “Dad, Emily’s pregnant—she can’t drink!” His words tumbled out, desperate to smooth things over. He reached for his father’s arm, pleading.

At that, his dad’s expression changed, a strange smile spreading across his face. “Oh? Pregnant?” His tone was sly, almost gleeful. I felt a chill run down my spine.

“Yeah, two months,” my brother-in-law replied. He looked relieved, as if the news might fix everything. I watched the hope flicker in his eyes.

His dad laughed, then got up and walked off to find his wife. His laughter echoed down the hallway, weirdly triumphant. The sound lingered, unsettling.

A lot of people were confused by his reaction. I didn’t get it either. The mood in the room shifted, uncertain. Conversations died off, replaced by uneasy glances.